


Almost Alive

by jiminchus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive!Stiles, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood, F/M, Flesh eating, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Warm Bodies AU, Zombie!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminchus/pseuds/jiminchus
Summary: Being dead wasn’t all that bad as people made it out to be-- - well, living people, anyway. Derek has learned to live with it, to cope with it. Just like the other undead folks that roamed the now-abandoned LAX with him. There were a few pro’s and con’s to it, though. Aka the Warm Bodies AU nobody asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

Being dead wasn’t all that bad as people made it out to be-- - well, _living people_ , anyway. Derek has learned to live with it, to cope with it. Just like the other undead folks that roamed the now-abandoned LAX with him. There were a few pro’s and con’s to it, though. 

The pro’s were that he could no longer feel any pain, his instincts were heightened, all verbal communication was limited to grunts and moans  and some slipped out words which somewhat pleased Derek, and life was so much simpler now. He no longer had to get up at seven am to go to work, which he was positive he did since he was a business suit, he could wander around, find people..., _eat them_.

But if Derek could live without _that_ , his life as a zombie would be set. However, it was an impulse whenever he laid his eyes on a living. It was an addiction. An addiction caused by some kind of virus that buzzed through his dead veins, animating him, keeping him moving. He had to feed it or he'd wither away and be...dead.

The con’s, including eating people, were that he couldn’t remember _anything_ , only his first name, he couldn’t move as fast as he wanted, he smelt like rotting flesh, and he was rather...lonely.

Of course, he had a few zombie friends here, but he yearned for something _more_. Love, perhaps? But that was another con being a zombie.

He couldn’t feel any emotions what so ever. 

Perhaps being dead _was that_ bad after all.

Derek was wandering around the airport, bumping into other zombies, muttering apologies under his breath. It would be a typical day for him, but he was heading towards the food court to meet up with his friends. They were going on a hunting trip with a couple of other zombies.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since their last hunting trip, probably a few days ago, but Derek had felt it. His limbs beginning to fizzle, fading. All he could see was ruthless visions of blood, the brilliant, mesmerizing red spewing everywhere as he tore open a living, devouring their inwards and other contents. Their flesh and muscles, like meat, chewy and oh so satisfying. Like he said, it was like an addiction.

As Derek slowly made his way to food hall, he played a little game with himself. It was something he and his friend Erica would joke and theorize about other's clothing since their final fashion choice was the only suggestion of who they were before they became nothing but rotting corpses.

That one scratching at the glass was a fitness instructor, that one picking at  his face was a doctor, etc.

Sometimes they would do it to themselves. Derek was wearing a business suit, so he had to be a businessman or something professional before died. Erica was wearing a fly attendant uniform, so there was no second guessing there. Issac wore designer jeans and jacket, so either he was a hipster or a rich kid. Boyd was simple blue jeans and white t-shirt, so it was hard to figure out what he had been.

When he entered the food hall, he immediately spotted the trio and approached them. Erica was the first to spot him. Her lips, which surprising wasn't rotting off like the others, quirked up into a grin. None of them were particularly charming, but death had been sympathetic to them than most.

"De..rek!"

"Food," Derek grunted out, causing Erica to roll her eyes. Surprisingly, one didn't pop out that time.

"City?" Boyd asks.

Derek gave a subtle nod. Issac then shuffled forward, bumping Derek with his shoulder, "Boneys?"

Ah, yes, the Boneys. They were ancient beings that ran everything, controlled all the zombies. They were nothing but bones and Derek was certain this what would become of them sooner or later. They didn't particularly like when zombies would form hordes and hunt down food. They wanted it all to themselves. They were rather selfish in his opinion.

"D...Di..dn't...se..e...a...ny," Derek grumbled.

They were in the clear to set out. They gather the ones with appetites, which was very little. Their group was small. Ridiculously small. If they get caught up with Living with weapons, they all could die.

But Derek didn't care. He was too hungry to care.

They set out towards the city, advancing farther into streets than they usually did. It felt like hours, days even, as the traveled. They wandered down empty lanes. Derek noticed that, like everything else, roads were returning to nature, buildings covered in moss and vines.

How long had it been since zombie outbreak happened? It had to be years. It made Derek wander further. How long had he been dead? How old was he?

Boyd coming to a sudden halt brought Derek out of his thoughts and looked over at his friend.

"...Food," the taller, bulkier man growled, pointing in the direction of an apartment building.

Then Derek sensed it. The scent of life scratching at his nostrils, bright and strong. There were a lot of them. More than what their little group consisted of.

"To...o man....y," Erica huffed, glancing at Derek, "Not...safe."

Derek turned to glare at her, "Food."

"No," Issac hissed, "To...o ma...ny."

"EAT," Derek growled loudly.

Erica and Issac went quite, looking back at their group. Some sniff the air warily, some of them dubious, but others were more single-minded like him. They snap their teeth together and growl.

"Need it!" Derek was getting irritated, "C..ome...on."

He turned and start toward the building, others follow behind him. Erica and Issac look at each other briefly before shrugging their shoulders and caught up with the rest. They entered the building, going up a few flight of stairs, and then...Derek paused.

"Come on, Stiles, there is nothing out there."

Living voices. It had a been a while since he heard people talking so carefree. No screaming or pleads for help. Erica bumped his shoulder and snapped him out of his trace. He looked at her and then at Issac and Boyd, who were looking at him.

"Let's...go," Derek muttered.

They all rushed into the room where the life was radiating. The carefree laughter and reserved, clear streams of words came to an end and began with screaming. Derek could hear guns cocking, but he doesn't hesitate to grab one of the nearest Living and sink his teeth into his throat. The warm taste of blood flooded his mouth and it tasted so fucking good. He could feel the Living's life leaving and entering him.

"Shit! Fuck!" 

Guns go off, the darkness of the room is pulsing with gunfire. They were outnumbered, but they were winning. The living group was nothing but a bunch of teenagers, boys and girls, who were not prepared for this.

Derek pushed the man down he was currently feeding off of to the side. As he moved forward into the darkness, a boy, seventeen or eighteen, appeared out of nowhere shooting blindly in the darkness, making Derek stop dead in his tracks and he could have sworn he felt something twinge in his chest.

The boy was beautiful. Moles dotting across his face, neck....

Derek stared him continued to stare at him until a gunshot tore through his shoulder.

He looked down at the wound, black blood oozing out of the hole. Derek looks up to find another boy standing on top a counter, pointing his gun at him.

Derek cocks a brow at him and the boy shoots Derek a second time. Derek let out a roar before he loped across the counter, pulling the boy's feet from under him and falls, cracking his head on the edge of the counter. Derek pounced on him and brutally began slamming his head on the hard floor. His skull cracked open and Derek dug his fingers into the crack of his skull and pried it open.

There was one body part Derek did like eating and that was their brain. When he ate it, he got a part of their memories. Something he never had. It made him feel human. So when he pulls a small chunk of the boy's brain, pulsing hot between his fingers, he quickly swallows it whole and-- -


	2. Chapter 2

It was the fourth of July in Texas. Fireworks erupted in the sky, others whirl in a spiral, some shatter into thousands of sparks, others tumble like a scarlet waterfall or float in a glittering silver shower. It was beautiful. 

His name was Theo Raeken. He is six-year-old and was bouncing with excitement next his father while Spangled Banner played loudly in the background.

"What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?"

He laughed and sang, ooh'd and ahh'd at the fireworks. He was so happy, 

  


                  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  


He had just turned eleven years old and was starting his first day at Beacon Hills Middle school. His parents had gotten a divorce and his mother got full custody of him and sister. They ended moving to Beacon Hills, their mother's hometown.

Theo hated it here. He wanted to go back to Texas where his dad was. He missed his dad. He couldn't stop crying during recess, which gained some attention from Jackson Whittemore, the school's bully.

"You're such a pansy!" Jackson had exclaimed, pushing Theo to the ground.

There were no teachers around and Theo's elbow throbbed in agony. A sob ripped out of his throat and that made things worse with Jackson.

"Cry-baby! Cry-baby!" The bully began chanting, laughing and pointing at Theo. Soon other boys, Jackson's friends, began to chime in.

But then, there was a blur and Jackson let out a cry and stumbled backward, clutching his nose.

"I've had enough of you! I don't understand why Lydia likes you so much! You're a jerkwad!"

It was a boy, perhaps Theo's age, all his hair buzzed off, scrawny as can be, with his fists raised up at Jackson. It took Theo a moment to realize that the boy had punched the bully.

"Ow! My that was my nose, Stilinski!" Jackson wailed. "You broke my nose!"

'Stilinski' huffed, folding his arms across his chest, "If you don't get out of here, I'll break something else!"

"I'll get you, you little brat!" Jackson growled before he took off, his little group of friends trailing quickly behind him.

Theo sat there in shock, watching as the bully ran away. Suddenly there was a hand outstretched in front of his face and he blinked up at the boy.

"Whaddya doin'? C'mon!" the boy said.

Theo looked at his hand hesitantly before taking it with his non-hurting arm and 'Stilinski' hauled him up onto his feet.

"Are you okay?" 'Stilinski' asked, "Jackson pushed you pretty hard."

"I think I'll be okay," Theo grumbled, looking down at his feet, suddenly shy, "T-Thank you for helping me."

"Hey, no big deal," 'Stilinski' shrugged, "I know how it feels to be bullied by that jerkwad. I had to help in some way....I'm Stiles, by the way. Stiles Stilinski."

"Stiles?" Theo glanced up at him, confused, "What kind of name is that?"

Stiles grinned, "It's a nickname.  I wouldn't dare use my monstrosity of a real name."

"Oh...."

"You're new, right? What's your name?"

"Theo...Theo Raeken."

"Nice to meet you, Theo," Stiles slung an arm around his shoulders, "I think me and you are going to become great friends."

For some reason, Theo thought so too.

As one of the teachers blew the whistle for the students to gather, he and Stiles walked back together, hip to hip. But Theo felt something trickle down his left arm and he looked to see blood oozing down his arm from a deep scratch that he probably got from falling earlier. 

Stiles called it his war scar.

                  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He was fifteen when the world went to hell. There was a sickness that broke out, and now the entire human population was ceasing to exist and being replaced by those who succumbed to the virus and their bodies being reanimated by it, turning them into frenzied creatures. 

His mother and sister were among those contracted the virus. He supposed his father had, too, since he hasn't heard from him since the epidemic occurred. 

Theo was at school and sitting at his desk, tapping his pen against his notebook. There were guards standing outside the window and he would occasionally glance in their direction. It was their duty until they finished the wall General John Stilinski had ordered to be built around to the city of Beacon Hills to keep the dead out.

Ha, the dead.

Something soft bounced off his forehead. It was a crumbled up piece of paper with something scrawled on it. Theo glanced up and saw Stiles looking at him from over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Ugh, dork, he couldn't help but think fondly.

He unraveled the paper and it had read: "AFTER SCHOOL. USUAL PLACE."

Theo couldn't help but grin, too. The usual place meant behind the gymnasium where the two would meet up and make-out until they were painfully hard and a panting mess.

Oh, yeah, that's right. Sometimes when they were fourteen, Theo began to notice how cute Stiles' moles were, how unbearably he was, how good he smelt, the way Stiles made his heart flutter in his chest, and he...he just had to have him. So when Theo confessed how he felt about Stiles, the boy surprisingly felt the same way about Theo. 

He looked back up at Stiles and gave him a curt nod in response. 

                  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Two years later, they were now seventeen. The wall was built and they were now safe from the dead. 

  


"Theo," Stiles whispered in his ear as Theo kissed down his neck. He twines his fingers into his and squeezes hard. Theo returns to kiss him deeply on the mouth and caressing his skin.

  


"Are you sure you want this?" Theo breathes, looking Stiles in the eyes.

  


His eyes glitter and he smiles gently, "Yes."

  


"Stiles...," Theo smiles.

  


He lays him on his bed, their clothes already discarded and they then proceed to melt into one, hearts migrate and merge, their cells braided together like living thread.

  


"Stiles....Stiles....God, Stiles."

  


                  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  


  


Woah, woah. Stop. What do you think you're doing? Don't even think you can have this. You might as well hang it up. You're dead, for christ's sake! You're nothing but a rotting corpse. You're no one.

  


**_YOU'RE NO ONE!_ **

  


                  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  


Derek finds himself kneeling beside the boy.  Theo, he corrects himself. There are gun shots going off left and right. He gets up to his feet, dizzy and still reeling from the experience he just had. He never had a vision that deep before, like a whole life spooling through his head. A sting of tears burn at his eyes, but his tear ducts no longer worked.  It scared the hell out of him.

  


It was the first time he felt any kind of pain since he died.

  


There was a scream nearby and he turns. It was him. The boy. Stiles. He looked older now than what the visions provided. His hair had grown out from the buzz cut and it looked like he was no longer the lanky teenager as he could see built up some muscles in his arms and legs.

  


He was huddled in a corner, disarmed, crying and screaming as Boyd edged towards him.

  


Derek still felt disoriented, uncertain where or who he was, but...he quickly intervened by shoving the bulkier man away, snarling, "No, mine."

  


Boyd looked pissed, but Derek didn't care. He wasn't going to hurt the boy. He looked like he was going to say something, but he heard Erica whine when one of the other livings shot her in the chest. The black man shot Derek a glare before shuffling across the room to help her. 

  


Derek approached the boy. He cowers before him, his tender flesh offering him all the things he was accustomed of taking, and his instincts start to reassert themselves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd I'll end it there for this chapter. :)


	3. Chapter 3

“THEO!”  


The boy is screaming again, causing something to move within of Derek, a puny insect grappling in a spider’s web. He lingers a moment before he makes his life-altering decision. Derek inches towards the frightened boy gingerly with a gentle groan as if he was trying to reassure him that he wasn’t going to harm him. Eat him.

The next thing Derek knew, a knife was protruding from the midst of his forehead. It hadn't gone deep, but it did graze his frontal lobe.  Derek simply yanks it out and throws it to the side.  He looked at Stiles, who was beginning to dig through his holsters for another weapon.

Derek is just a few feet in front of him and he holds up his hands, trying once more. He tries to make words, but they came out clumsy grunts.  He was useless at this. How could Derek appear harmless when his lover's brain matter was flowing down his chin?

Behind him, he could hear the others finishing off one of the two last remaining Living in the room. Once they got a sense of Stiles, they'll come after him next. Derek couldn't let that happen. 

So, he took a deep, long breath.

"St...il..es...," he exhales.

The boy immediately freezes, glancing at Derek from the corner of his eye in disbelief. 

"W-What did y-you just say?" Stiles gasp.

"Stiles," Derek speaks more clearly this time.

Stiles eyes go wide. He stares at Derek as if he had grown to heads as he sinks down to the ground. Derek follows, slumping to his knees in front of him.

Derek gestures to the Dead behind him and shakes his head while pointing to himself.

"Sa...Safe," Derek tries again, trying to give the bewildered boy a smile.

"What the _**fuck**_ ," Stiles cries, curling into himself as he stares at Derek in panic. 

Derek made an "shh" gesture to him and Stiles immediately hushed up. Laying beside them was one of the Dead that was, well, dead, now. Derek reached into the head wound and gathered a small handful of black, lifeless blood into his palm. He slowly began smearing on Stiles' face and spreading it all the way down to his neck and chest.

Just right then, Boyd and the others finished consuming their prey. They turn around to investigate, their eyes falling on Derek.

Then settled on Stiles.

However, they made no move towards him. Erica sniffed at the air, and Derek knew what she smelt. Nothing. The blood covering Stiles masked his Living scent to them. To them, Stiles was just another Dead now.

With a small sense of relief, Derek took Stiles' hand and pulled him to his feet. They walk towards them, Stiles staggering along the way, but he stared straight ahead, afraid if he made a certain move, they'd all jump him right there.

Derek leads him out of the building and heads back to the airport. He couldn't help but notice the way Stiles looked him from the corner of his eye, though. It was a mix of emotion; wonder, anticipation, fear, and confusion. Derek couldn't blame him. He was supposed to be no one, a lifeless creature devouring the Living.

But here he was holding hands with a Living, bringing him back to his home, keeping him _**safe**_.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles knew it had been a very, _**very**_ bad idea to sneak out of Beacon and into Dead’s Land, but he wasn’t going to let his friends venture out into danger alone. Besides, there were only a few people with guns, including his fiance Theo, in the group that the leader triggerman, Donovan Donati, gathered up. Stiles hadn’t been trained like the two had, but he knew how to shoot a gun if they got into a bind.

“This is still a bad idea,” Stiles muttered under his breath as they advanced on.  


It earned him an elbow to his ribs by Lydia, "Oh hush. We never have fun anymore. Besides, we’re not going that far.” 

"Yeah, Stiles," Donovan, the bastard, smirks, "Chill. We're going to be fine."

"Yeah, you say that now," Stiles grumbles, "but when my dad finds out we snuck out, we've all had it."

"Stiles, baby," Theo cuts in, laughing, "your dad isn't going to find out. He won't even know we're gone."

Stiles' eyes flicker to his fiance, frowning. He's honestly not surprised that Theo went along with Donovan's plan. Ever since those two became friends, Donovan somehow warped Theo's brain. It's was like Theo was a whole different person and Stiles didn't like it one bit.

"Whatever," Stiles replies, eyes tearing away from him. 

He heard Theo sigh in exasperation and Stiles glanced out of the corner of his eye to watch as his fiance left him behind to catch up with Donovan. 

Stiles couldn't help the pang of hurt and jealousy in his chest. 

Lydia must have taken notice of the expression on his face because she draped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, "Don't worry about, Stiles. Donovan has nothing on you. You're the one wearing his ring, not him."

"Still doesn't mean anything," Stiles sighed, bumping his hip against her's.

Sure he has the ring, but that didn't mean Theo couldn't take it back. At first, Theo's and Donovan's friendship appeared somewhat moral. Stiles jokingly said Donovan perverted Theo of his innocence, but later down the road, Stiles began noticing more concerning things.

Theo began spending all his time with Donovan instead of Stiles, he rarely showed Stiles any affection, they fought all the time, he was becoming emotionally withdrawn, they haven't made love in weeks, and what really, really got Stiles the most was that Theo doesn't tell him he loves him anymore. 

Stiles thought at first that maybe Theo was stressed out over his father pressuring him to take the lieutenant position in his army. However, when he did take the position, everything stayed the way it was between them, so Stiles thought something else was bothering him. 

But when he began noticing Theo acting like a lost puppy around Donovan, as Scott did with Allison, Stiles knew exactly what the problem was. Theo was fucking Donovan.

Stiles was angry and hurt. He loved Theo, and he had thought Theo loved him, too. They were going to get married, adopt a kid, live together peacefully, but then...then Donovan had to come into their lives and fuck everything up. 

But the more Stiles thinks about it, he deserves so much better than Theo. So that's why when they get back, Stiles is going to give Theo his ring back and end it.

"They deserve each other, anyway," he whispers to himself.

"What?" Lydia looks up at him and Stiles shakes his head.

"Nothin'."

The group finally comes up to an abandoned small apartment building. 

"I bet we can salvage a lot there," Tracey Stewart grins.

"Damn right," Donovan agrees, cocking his gun, "There might be a few Dead in here, too. Theo and I will cover the front, Stiles and Josh, you two will cover the rear."

Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes but does as planned. He has his gun lowered as they entered the building. They go into every room until they've cleared the entire building of any Dead. 

"Alright," Theo says as they settle in a room, "Let's go through and gather what we can."

They go through cabinets, closets, etc. Lydia finds a bag of make-up that surprisingly wasn't expired, Corey finds a couple of books, and Stiles finds an old Met T-shirt.

"We should also see what we can find in medicine," Stiles tells everyone, "You know how much Beacon goes through medicine a month, plus flu season is on its way, so we need to be prepared."

"Yeah, yeah," Donovan snorts, shoving his treasure into his backpack. 

"'Yeah, yeah'?" Stiles whips around, glaring at him.

He's about to tell him off when Lydia lays a petite hand on his shoulder. 

"Don't," she warns, "Not worth it."

Oh, but it was. But Stiles was going to wait.

They keep on moving deeper in the room when Stiles hears footsteps. Stiles waves a hand to hush everyone up. He turns towards the door and lays his hand on the Glock on his hip.

"Did you guys hear that?"

Everyone looked at one another, shaking their heads. But then Theo comes out of a room, an eyebrow cocked. 

"Hear what?" he asked.

"I swear I heard something outside in the hall," Stiles says.

"C'mon, Stiles, there is nothing out there," Donovan huffs, rolling his eyes.

Everyone began sniggering and turned back to what they were doing. Stiles sighed, annoyed. Perhaps he had imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard something. Just as he removed his hand from his gun, they all rushed in the room. The Dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter on my phone. It totally sucks, but I wanted to have Stiles P.O.V in the story.


End file.
